


Nothing Like The Movie

by vic_amy_z



Category: Franklin & Bash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vic_amy_z/pseuds/vic_amy_z
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When times are tough for a young Franklin & Bash, how far will they go to make ends meet...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like The Movie

**Author's Note:**

> In the Pilot episode, Jared suggests selling his ass on Sunset to make money. What if things had got so bad in the past, that it wasn't a joke? (Technically this was written as bromance rather than slash, but they still have a very close relationship.) _WARNING - Prostitution and some reference to non-con._

There are three numbers that Peter will always remember: 37... 2,145... and 19.

**~~~~~~~~**

Peter hurried to get his key in the lock, his hands fumbling in his haste to get the door open. He threw himself inside and slammed the door shut, falling breathlessly against it because he'd had to run up the last three flights of stairs.

'I know you're in there,' came an irate voice from the hallway, a few seconds later. 'I can hear you coming past my room.' Their landlady banged on the door loudly, making Peter jump. 'If you two don't pay up by the end of the week, I'm throwing your sorry asses out onto the street!' 

Peter crept across the room as quietly as he could, deciding that he'd be safer hiding behind the couch until she'd gone away. He nearly had a heart attack when he discovered that Jared was already there, calmly sitting on the floor, eating cereal and also hiding from their landlady. There was more banging on their door.

Peter sat down on the floor next to Jared. 'How many times is that now?' he asked, quietly.

'Three, since I got back this afternoon,' Jared whispered in reply.

Eventually, they heard her footsteps going off down the hallway, accompanied by the sounds of angry muttering, and Peter let out a sigh. 'Jesus, we can't go on like this,' he said, resting his head wearily against the back of the couch.

'Agreed,' said Jared. 'I don't want to be eating all of my meals from behind the couch.'

'Well, that might not be a problem for much longer,' Peter said. 'If we don't find some paying work soon, we won't be able to afford to eat anyway.'

'What? No more _Cap'n Crunch_?' Jared sounded so sad that Peter might have laughed if their situation wasn't so painfully unfunny.

'Not unless you can find any under the couch with the dust bunnies...' he admitted.

Jared pulled a face and tossed his spoon into the empty bowl. 'Okay, so times are a little tough right now, but we've been up against it before, right? What do we usually do?'

'We usually leave in the middle of the night and find another apartment.'

'Oh yeah,' Jared said, dejectedly.

'But if we're going to make a go of it on our own, we really need an address that doesn't change every two months,' Peter sighed. 'Plus, I _like_ this apartment. I'm on first-name terms with some of the cockroaches!'

It had all seemed like such a good idea when they'd graduated. But now it was a year down the line and they were still struggling to find clients who weren't the lowest forms of humanity or clients who could actually pay them. Peter couldn't help wondering if Jared could still go and work for his dad, and whether there'd be a job in it for him too.

'Maybe you could...'

'No,' Jared cut him off. 'I am not going to go crawling to my father and ask him for a job.'

Yeah, Jared's mind was pretty much made up on that one. 'What about a loan then? Surely he wouldn't actually want to see you out on the streets?' 

'Peter, I'd sooner sell my ass on Sunset than ask my dad for a loan!'

Peter couldn't help laughing at the seriousness with which Jared had made that statement. 'Yeah? Well, it may yet come to that so don't rule it out.'

There was an awkward silence while they both tried to tell themselves that it wouldn't really come to that…

**~~~~~~~~**

After eight days spent leaving their apartment by climbing down the fire escape and at least sixty percent of their time indoors spent hiding behind the couch, both Peter and Jared knew that they needed to take some drastic action. As they listened to their landlady's footsteps retreating down the corridor for the fifth and final time that night, they dragged themselves up off the floor and collapsed gratefully on opposite ends of the couch, lying back against the arms like bookends, their legs tangled together in the middle.

'Y'know, I probably wouldn't have spent so much time worrying about not getting any taller, if I'd have known that I'd be spending the rest of my life on the damn floor,' Jared grumbled.

Considering the mounting horror of their situation, they did the only sensible thing under the circumstances. They proceeded to get very drunk. Several bottles of wine later, they were finally in the right frame of mind to have a sensible discussion about the state of their finances...

'We could see if they need any volunteers for medical studies over at UCLA? That pays pretty well.' Jared said, optimistically, slurring his words a little.

'I already checked,' Peter admitted, 'And unless you can convince them that we're women aged between forty and sixty, there's nothing for us there.' Jared sighed. 'So, what about blood donation?' Peter asked.

'Nope, it's at least another two months before either of us can donate again.' Peter was kind of impressed that Jared was keeping tabs on when they'd last donated. 'Anyway, I hate needles. I'm sure that there're far more pleasurable ways to donate bodily fluids!' Jared grinned suggestively at Peter.

'Yeah, like either of us could get through the five day abstinence period you have to have before donation!' Peter laughed, taking another swig of wine directly from the bottle before passing it to Jared.

'I dunno, it's been a while. And it's not like either of us can actually _afford_ girlfriends right now,' Jared said.

'That also includes... um... solo activities...'

'What?' Jared spluttered. 'Dude, that’s just inhuman!'

'Plus, it's a really long screening process, and we need money now.' Peter had already looked into their options there and he didn't have the heart to tell Jared that he was actually too short to be accepted by most clinics. 

'Well, that's it then - we're screwed!' Jared drained the bottle and placed it unsteadily on the floor. 'Unless you want to consider selling a kidney?!'

'There's always the other option we talked about?' Peter said, tentatively.

'Yeah right!' Jared laughed. 'We're gonna go and join the rest of the hookers down on... Oh fuck, you're serious, aren't you?' he finished, seeing the look on Peter's face.

Peter shrugged. 'If you can think of another way to make money and fast, then be my guest.'

'Yeah, but... Really? Are we _actually_ considering this?' Jared asked.

Peter shrugged again and reached for another bottle, before the thought of actually going through with this sobered them up again. They drank in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth between them.

The only reason they were even drinking wine in the first place was because it had been a gift from a client. Well actually, it had been payment from a client. They'd represented a woman whose husband was divorcing her, having traded her in for a younger model. She was trying to get her hands on his not-inconsiderable fortune and when they'd landed the case, Peter had been convinced this was going to be their big payday. Unfortunately, neither of them had counted on the constraining and almost water-tight pre-nup that she'd signed.

They'd lost the case and their client lost almost everything, including the ability to pay them. She had, however, had the foresight to start emptying her husband's extensive wine cellar before she'd left, which is how Peter and Jared had found themselves in possession of several cases of extremely expensive wine. As for the rest of their bill? Well, Peter had found another way for her to compensate them for what she owed, although Jared had been less than impressed that Peter had received his share of the compensation.

Didn't that mean that he'd kind of sold himself already...?

'Okay, I'll admit that it might not be the _worst_ way to earn money,' Jared said out of nowhere, the alcohol having finally removed the buffer between his brain and his mouth. 'I mean, it worked for Julia Roberts, right?'

'You spend far too much time watching chick flicks, man,' Peter said, retrieving the wine bottle from Jared's end of the couch. 'Plus, Richard Gere is _way_ out of your league!'

'Hey! And why am _I_ the one doing this?'

'We could flip for it?' Peter suggested, only half joking.

'That would involve having money, which we don't. And we already frisked the couch for quarters last week, remember?' Jared reminded him.

'So, _'Rock Paper Scissors'_ , it is then?' 

Jared sat up, rather unsteadily, and placed one hand behind his back. Then he looked up at Peter and said one final time, 'Really? We're _actually_ going to go through with this?'

Peter just shrugged. He honestly had no idea what they were going to do; he just knew that they were flat broke. On the count of three, they brought out their hands again. Even in his inebriated state, Peter could see that his _'paper'_ beat Jared's _'rock'_ , but even if he couldn't, the look of horror on Jared's face would have told him the same thing.

'Well, it's probably better this way,' Jared began, sounding like he was trying to keep the tone light-hearted, but failing miserably. 'I mean, I doubt I'd be much use trying to protect you if, y'know...' he trailed off. 

Peter reached out without thinking and pulled Jared into a hug that was returned a second or two later. 'Hey, come on, we're not actually gonna do this,' he muttered against the top of Jared's head. They might not know much about this sort of thing, but they were both smart enough to know that it wasn't exactly rich, good-looking women who went trawling Sunset to procure the services of young men. 

'And I do have more experience in this field than you do,' Jared said playfully, his head still resting against Peter.

Peter pulled away from Jared and fixed him with a look, trying not to laugh. 'I hardly think that one drunken hand job counts as experience, Jared.'

'I didn't hear you complaining,' Jared replied with a smirk.

'Yeah, well, I was drunk too...' Peter finished, lamely. 'Anyway, you always claim that you don't remember what happened that night?'

'State dependant memory, dude. Come on, you did Psych 101!'

Peter rolled his eyes and they settled back on the couch again, one arm still loosely draped around Jared. In the silence that stretched out between them, Peter tried to convince himself that things hadn't really got this bad. He guessed that Jared was probably doing the same. 'Look, it was a stupid idea,' he said finally, 'I mean, we don't know the first thing about...' Jared looked up sharply, as if he was daring Peter to actually put the idea into words. 'Just forget it, okay?'

Jared reached for the remaining bottle of wine, pulled the cork and took several long gulps, which probably wasn't the best way to treat a 1989 Barolo but under the circumstances Peter was prepared to let it slide. Especially when Jared passed the bottle to him and he practically finished it off in the same manner. Jared slumped down dejectedly until he was lying on his side, his head resting in Peter's lap. The silence stretched out again.

'If you'd picked _'scissors'_ instead of _'paper'_ , would _you_ have gone through with it?' Jared asked eventually, his voice barely audible.

Peter ran a hand distractedly over Jared's arm in the hope that he wouldn't have to answer. Jared turned his head and looked up at Peter questioningly. 'I dunno... maybe?' Peter said out loud. _Probably_ , he finished in his head. He was running out of ways to spin the fact that they had never been this desperate for money. 'We'll think of something,' he said soothingly, letting his fingers card through Jared's hair. Peter just hoped that the _'something'_ turned up soon...

**~~~~~~~~**

Jared had already left the apartment by the time Peter was able to drag himself out of bed and force down a handful of aspirin to try and stop the horrible pounding in his head. Not that Peter was unduly worried - they often spent their days apart, trying to scare up new clients - he was more impressed that Jared was actually up and functioning, considering the obscene amount they'd both drunk the previous night. Then he remembered the conversation they'd had about their cash flow problems, and the ridiculous idea they'd come up with of Jared selling himself to pay the rent. Peter laughed out loud at the thought, shaking his head, and then stopping that immediately because his hangover was making him feel nauseous.

Okay, so Peter hadn't been completely truthful the previous night, when he'd said that prostitution was something they knew nothing about. They were actually quite familiar with the red light district in LA, which had now moved off the main strip, because they'd represented a client a few months back who'd been arrested there for solicitation. Their defence was supposed to be that he didn't know it was the red light district and had actually gone looking for a late-night liquor store, and so they'd spent a long time driving around the area trying to find something that would back up their plea. Unfortunately, it was quite obvious that where their client had been picked up was right in the middle of a region populated only by hookers, their defence didn't wash with the jury and they'd lost the case. 

And Jared really hadn't been lying when he'd said that he had more experience than Peter, although it was only ever something they referred to when they were drunk. They'd shared a room back in college and one weekend, when Danny had come to visit them, Peter had offered him one of their beds, saying that he and Jared would take it in turns to sleep on the floor. Jared was less than impressed with this arrangement so Peter had agreed to take the floor for the first night, which was just fine with Jared. 

The next night they'd all gone out to a bar and Jared had proceeded to get totally wasted, thanks to Danny, who'd spent most of the night goading Jared into drinking increasingly ridiculous concoctions. When they finally stumbled back to their dorm room, Jared had practically fallen face first into the sleeping bag on the floor without a complaint. Not being as drunk as the others, Peter hadn't been able to drop off quite so easily and he'd lain awake in the darkness for a while, until he was sure that everyone else was asleep. Which was why he was more than a little surprised to find someone pulling at his sheets some twenty minutes later.

''s cold on the floor, Peter,' Jared had slurred, struggling to sit up in his sleeping bag and using Peter's bed sheets for purchase, 'Lemme get into bed.'

'Get off!' Peter hissed, grabbing hold of his sheets before Jared could pull them off altogether. 'And go back to sleep.'

'Aww, come on. Y'know I hate being cold. Jus' move over a bit,' and before Peter could do anything to stop him, Jared had managed to slide himself onto the edge of Peter's mattress and was working his way under the covers.

Peter had frozen in horror. Not because Jared was in bed with him - it wasn't the first time that had happened, nor would it be the last - but because he'd kind of been in the middle of something personal and he hadn't counted on sharing the experience. Peter had pressed himself back against the wall, as far away from Jared as he could, but the way that Jared was wriggling against him wasn't helping the situation that he had going on. He all but held his breath, hoping that Jared would pass out again or that things would subside, but apparently the universe had other ideas on both counts.

When Jared had turned over and whispered to him with a grin, 'So, d'you want a hand with that, 'cos I don't think there's room in this bed for all three of us?' Peter had been struck dumb with embarrassment. It was one thing for your best friend to catch you jerking off, it was another thing entirely for him to offer you assistance!

Before Peter had been able to process what was happening, Jared was already two steps ahead of him, pressing himself up against Peter as he slipped one hand into the waistband of his shorts. Peter didn't remember _everything_ about that night; he couldn't remember which semester it had been, the name of the bar they'd gone to, or why Jared had been so mad with Danny. But he remembered the feeling of Jared's hand around him, he remembered thinking that kissing Jared right then would have been the most natural thing in the world, and he remembered burying his face into the pillow to muffle the sound of his moans as he came.

And although he couldn't speak from experience, Peter had a feeling that there was a huge difference between giving a hand job to your best friend when you were drunk off your ass, and doing it for money...

**~~~~~~~~**

Jared finally came back late that afternoon and, after throwing his bag on the couch and his keys on the coffee table, he cheerfully announced that he'd been down on Sunset, doing some research. 

'What?' Peter asked, incredulously, and Jared launched into an account of everywhere he'd been and what he'd learned. Peter held up a hand, cutting Jared off in the middle of his findings with, 'Look, you don't really have to go through with this. We were drunk last night and it's a stupid idea anyway. I'm sure we'll come up with something else.'

'Like what, Peter?' Jared asked, an unusually confrontational edge to his voice. 'We are fresh out of other options right now. Unless you want to consider _'getting evicted'_ as an option?!'

'We could always...'

'No!' It was Jared's turn to cut Peter off. 'I know what you're going to say and that will _never_ be an option!'

Peter sighed. It didn't matter that he never got to finish his sentence. Jared was so stubborn when it came to his Father, he really _would_ sell himself before he asked that man for anything. The debate on the subject apparently closed, Jared threw himself down on the couch, grabbed the remote and began aggressively flicking through the channels, trying to find something that would hold his attention for more than six seconds. 

Peter wandered into the kitchen and got out all the ingredients to make a sandwich before he realised that he wasn't even hungry. He made it anyway and took it over to the couch as a peace offering to share with Jared, eating his half without really tasting it. Then they sat side by side, silently watching some programme that Peter was sure neither of them was interested in. Because anything was better than talking about the thing they weren't talking about.

As the sun was starting to set, and Peter was almost seventy percent sure that his partner was eventually going to back down on their stupid drunken plan, Jared hauled himself off the couch and announced that he needed to get changed. Peter had no idea what to expect; it wasn't like there was an industry-approved uniform for this kind of thing, so he wasn't exactly surprised when Jared just changed into another pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He stood in the doorway of his room, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking kind of uncomfortable, as though he'd expected a change of clothes to help somehow.

'Will you... drive me down there?' he asked, uncertainly.

'Jared, please... don't do this,' Peter said, ignoring his request.

'Fine, I'll get a cab,' Jared replied flatly. He stuffed his keys into his pocket and started heading for the door.

Peter grabbed his arm, holding him tightly. 'Can we at least talk about it?' he asked, trying to keep the pleading edge out of his voice.

'What is there to talk about?' Jared countered with defiance, 'If you can think of another way to make money and fast, then be my guest.'

Peter flinched slightly, hearing his own words thrown back at him; it made him feel like this whole thing was somehow his fault. In a split second, Peter realised that he probably had two choices; he could watch Jared get into a cab and then spend the next god-knows-how-many hours pacing the apartment and praying that Jared came back home again, or he could drive him down town and at least keep an eye on him. He also knew that talking Jared out of something - even something as crazy as this - once he'd made up his mind, really _wasn't_ an option. Unless Satan had started skating to work...

'Just... wait while I get my jacket, yeah?' Peter said finally. Jared nodded, offering him a nervous smile. Peter didn't actually need a jacket. What he needed was the minute it took to find it, to try and pull himself together. In the car, the atmosphere was horribly tense. Peter switched on the radio but everything sounded too upbeat and cheerful so he switched it off again. 'Maybe we should set some ground rules for this?' he said, finally breaking the silence, 'Y'know, so we're clear on what you'll... do?'

'If you're going to tell me not to talk to strangers, Peter, then I think it might be a little late for that,' Jared replied with a hollow laugh. 

Peter knew he was only making jokes to hide the fact that he was scared, because it was what Jared always did. It didn't make Peter feel any more like laughing though. In fact, Peter was pretty sure that he was going to throw up before too much longer. 'You know what I mean, Jared,' he said, giving him a look.

'Okay, so what's the advice then, Obi Wan?'

'Just, try not to... I mean, you shouldn't...' But Peter couldn't put it into words, because it would have made what Jared was about to do much too real. He drove into a side street just off Sunset and stopped the car. He didn't need Jared to tell him that they were in the right place. Peter switched off the engine and the sudden silence threatened to swallow him whole.

'Look, I have no idea what I'm doing and neither do you, so let's not pretend otherwise, okay?' Jared told him, somehow managing to come off as the voice of reason. 'Just look at tonight as an experiment - if it all goes horribly wrong, I promise I'll give up the dream and we'll think of something else, yeah?' Jared put a hand up to Peter's face and made Peter turn to look at him, to see that he was smiling. Even if it was forced.

Peter managed a weak smile in return. 'It's the _'horribly wrong'_ part that scares the crap out of me,' he admitted.

'I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare me too, but I'm not gonna take any chances and I'll stay as safe as I can. I mean, that's why I've got you with me, right?' 

'I'll wait in the car, where I can see you,' Peter said, taking a hold of one of Jared's hands and squeezing it tightly, when what really wanted to do was lean over pull Jared into a hug. Peter was pretty sure that if he did that, he'd never let Jared go again. 'If anything looks... well, y'know, I'll be there in a second.'

'Make it half a second, yeah?' Jared said, his voice shaking slightly. There was a beat then he reached out and put his hand on the door handle. 'Fuck, I wish we'd thought to save some alcohol instead of knocking it all back last night. I could really use some right about now.'

And as much as a stiff drink sounded like a good idea to Peter just then, he was glad they hadn't got any. It was bad enough that Jared was doing this, without him trying to do it drunk. Jared finally opened the door and Peter said to him one last time, 'You don't have to do this, you know,' although in his head it sounded more like, _I'm not making you do this, you know..._

Peter watched as Jared crossed the street and carried on walking until he was about fifty yards away. There was a certain swagger to his walk that Peter hadn't seen since their first ever day in a courtroom; a kind of grown-up, confident façade, pasted over the exterior of a kid who was actually terrified. Jared had walked into court that day like he was there to chew gum and kick ass, and he was all out of gum. He'd told Peter afterwards that if the table hadn't been there for him to nonchalantly lean on, then he was pretty sure that his legs would have given out on him. Across the street, Jared stopped and stood for a few seconds like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Then he leaned carefully back against the wall and they both set about waiting.

Ten minutes passed... Then twenty... Thirty... And every minute that Peter waited, he told himself that he shouldn't be the one sitting in the car. Half a dozen times he decided to get out - to just go and fetch Jared - but he never quite made it because every time he remembered the look of determination on Jared's face. After almost forty-five minutes, just as Peter was starting to think that they'd somehow ended up in the wrong place, or that somewhere else there was a two-for-one hooker happy hour going on, he saw two guys walking down the street towards Jared. Even though it didn't take a genius to work out that they were selling rather than buying, Peter found himself poised, one hand on the door handle in case things started to get unfriendly. Somewhere in his head he could hear Laura San Giacomo saying _"... We work Bob Hope, we work the Ritz Brothers, we work Fred Astaire, we work all the way down to Ella Fitzgerald. This is our turf..."_ and he came to the conclusion that Jared really did make him watch chick flicks far too often.

As it turned out, there didn't appear to be an issue over territory and nothing more sinister than casual conversation seemed to be taking place. Peter slowly relaxed his grip on the door handle, watching Jared carefully for the next few minutes. Then Peter saw him dig into his pocket and bring out a couple of business cards, handing them to his new friends. At first, Peter was completely in awe that Jared could find an opportunity for promotion in a situation like this, but before he could bask in the glow of his partner's business acumen it suddenly occurred to him that if Jared got busted - and, given their experience of the law, he knew that it was a very real possibility - then his career would be utterly screwed.

Just as the horror of that realisation was starting to sink in, a car pulled up in front of the three of them and Peter's first instinct was to duck down out of sight. Oh yeah, _great_ lookout he was... He peered sheepishly over the dash to watch the discussion that was taking place. One of the other two guys walked off and Peter expected someone to get out of the car and follow him. Instead, Jared got into the car and it drove off. Suddenly Peter's heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He'd never expected Jared to actually _go_ anywhere; he'd just assumed that they would... Well, in all honesty, Peter hadn't given too much thought to where such business might be conducted. Chalk another one up to naiveté. 

There was a horrible moment of indecision that seemed to stretch into minutes, before Peter put his hand on the ignition, intending to start the car and follow Jared. When someone tapped on his door a second later, he thought that _he_ was going to be the one to get busted. He slowly wound down the window, an explanation of being lost and stopping for directions already on his lips in case he saw a uniform. Instead, he saw one of the guys who'd been standing with Jared. He looked about their age, maybe a little younger, with dirty-blond hair and a silver hoop through one eyebrow.

'Your friend's gonna be fine,' he said, with a smile that looked a lot like the one Jared had given him just before he got out of the car. 'We gave him an easy one to start off with. I promise you he'll be back in less than fifteen minutes.'

Peter sat there for the next thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds, trying not to think about what _'easy'_ might mean.

It was actually the early hours of the morning when Jared called it a night. During that time, Peter had watched him go off with four different people. Every time Jared got into a car, Peter had to wait an agonising couple of seconds until he got a sign from one of the other guys that Jared was going to be safe. Well, as safe as anyone could be, given the situation. By the time Jared slid into the passenger seat and muttered the words, 'Take me home', Peter's nerves were pretty much shot to hell. He caught sight of himself in the rear view mirror as he pulled away; his eyes were red, his face was pallid and he looked like he'd been awake for the last thirty-six hours. 

Which was nothing compared to how bad Jared looked. 

Peter desperately wanted to wrap his arms around Jared and just hold onto him, but suddenly he was no longer sure if that would be okay with Jared, so Peter just let him sit there, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. They drove home in silence; everything in Jared's body language told Peter that he didn't want to talk about it, so Peter didn't ask. Instead, the unanswered questions just went 'round and 'round inside his head...

They crept silently up the stairs to their apartment, more out of habit than anything else. Peter thought that being ambushed by their landlady right about now would probably finish him off completely. Without saying anything, Jared went straight into the bathroom and Peter heard the bolt slide home, which was unusual in itself; they weren't exactly big on privacy and barely remembered to even shut the bathroom door, let alone lock it. Jared then spent the next forty-five minutes in the shower, which was thirty-five minutes longer than Peter had ever known him to shower for.

When he came out again, Jared was wrapped in what looked like every towel they owned, clutching his clothes tightly to his chest as if he was trying to cover as much of himself as humanly possible. Peter got up quickly from where he'd been perched nervously on the edge of the couch, in case Jared needed... something. Anything. Wordlessly, Jared gave Peter a handful of screwed up bills. Peter had thought, up until that point, that he was feeling as bad as he possibly could. It turned out that he was wrong. Horribly wrong.

In a very small voice, Jared announced, 'I'm going to bed,' and he disappeared into his room, closing the door softly behind him. Peter slumped back down onto the couch and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Finally, he forced himself to open his hand and look at the money that Jared had given him. It wasn't much, but he couldn't deny that it would keep their landlady off their backs for another couple of days. Suddenly, it felt as though the shock of what they'd just done hit him all at once, and he was utterly exhausted. Too tired to even crawl into bed, Peter curled up on the couch and closed his eyes, falling into a sleep that was mercifully dreamless...

**~~~~~~~~**

The next morning, Peter woke up to a crick in his neck, cramp in his leg and Jared humming to himself in the kitchen. He rubbed one hand over his eyes and then opened them again, just to make sure that he'd woken up in the right apartment. This time Jared was standing over him with a cup of coffee in his hand and an amused look on his face. 

'You do know that there's a perfectly good bed in your room, right?'

'Yeah, I... um...' Peter dragged himself upright, still not taking his eyes off Jared.

'Drink your coffee, Peter,' he said with a smile, handing over the mug. 'Your inability to form sentences without the aid of caffeine never fails to astound me...' and he wandered back into the kitchen, humming to himself again. 

Peter wanted to go in there after him, to grab him by the shoulders and demand, 'Who are you and what have you done with Jared?' but considering that he was expecting Jared to be a complete wreck and this one appeared to actually be functioning, it seemed rude to question it. Instead, he drank his coffee obediently, listening to Jared and wondering if he had somehow stumbled into a parallel universe.

They spent the rest of that day as if nothing had happened; they chased up clients, worked on cases and definitely did not talk about last night. When Jared went out to follow up on a witness statement, Peter quickly crept downstairs with an envelope of money and shoved it under their landlady's door. It had been sitting on the coffee table all morning; a constant reminder of where it had come from and it made Peter feel slightly better just to have it out of their apartment.

Peter desperately wanted to ask Jared a multitude of questions; _'What happened last night?' 'Are you okay?'_ and most importantly, _'Are you going to do it again?'_ but somehow, he couldn't find the right words. To the untrained eye, Jared was behaving normally, but Peter felt as though Jared was operating under a thin veneer of normality, and anything he did or said to remind him of last night might shatter than veneer into a thousand pieces, and he'd be left with the Jared who locked bathroom doors and didn't speak to him. Peter didn't think he could cope with that right now, so he played along.

As the day wore on, Peter found himself behaving... Well, if he was a girl, he'd call it _'clingy'_. He wasn't sure what it was between best friends. He talked about their evening as if neither of them had plans to go anywhere, even suggesting that they might watch a film as they'd already adopted near-horizontal positions on the couch. Peter was draped across Jared for a change, although part of that might have been him trying to physically keep Jared pinned there. Eventually, Jared pushed Peter gently over until he was upright and said, 'Come on, dude, I gotta get changed.'

'Don't go,' Peter blurted out without thinking, 'Not tonight. Just... stay in with me.'

'Are we gonna have this conversation every night?' Jared asked quietly. Peter just looked at him. 'This isn't a career change, Peter. This is just temporary, to get us back on our feet again. And we could always find excuses not to do it, but none of them are gonna pay our rent, are they?' Peter gave Jared the smallest of nods and Jared got up and disappeared into his room.

He came out about fifteen minutes later, standing nervously in the doorway of his room again, just like the previous night. And _nothing_ like the previous night. Peter tried to arrange his face into a suitable expression; one that said Jared was often dressed like that and there was nothing surprising about it at all. He mostly failed.

Jared was wearing a plain black t-shirt that Peter recognised as one he'd accidentally shrunk in the wash and hadn't got around to throwing out yet. Only now it wasn't on the laundry pile. Now it was clinging to Jared's body in places that Peter wasn't even aware Jared _had_ , his tattoo half-visible under the edge of the sleeve. He also wore a pair of loose combats that Peter had a sneaking suspicion might have come from his own wardrobe at some point. They rode dangerously low on Jared's hips, exposing an inch or two of skin below the hem of his t-shirt and drawing Peter's eyes towards parts of his best friend that he was pretty sure he shouldn't have been looking at. Well, not like that at least. 

Jared's hair was kind of... Peter wouldn't say _'spiked'_ exactly, but there was definitely a lot more product in it, something else that had no doubt come from the Peter Bash male grooming collection. And although he might not have sworn to it in a court of law, there seemed to be the barest hint of eyeliner on Jared, emphasising the grey/blue of his eyes. Peter didn't even want to _know_ where he'd got hold of eyeliner from!

The overall effect was... well, the first word that sprang to Peter's mind was _'jailbait'_ but he managed to bite that back, replacing it with an eyebrow raised in question. Jared just shrugged, as if the result of knocking at least five years off his age was more of a happy accident than a carefully planned strategy. Peter also recognised that this was just another of Jared's personas, like when he put a suit on for court. It wouldn't be Jared who was going out there tonight...

**~~~~~~~~**

Over the next few nights, they fell into a regular, if uneasy, pattern. Peter drove Jared down to the same spot every night and Jared always met up with the same two guys. Sometimes they were already there by the time Jared arrived and sometimes they came later, but they always seemed pleased to see Jared, which oddly gave Peter some comfort. He parked a little way down the street to watch over his friend, waiting for the inevitable _'OK'_ sign from one of the others every time Jared got into a car. Peter had no idea why they were being so nice, when it would be far better for their business to encourage Jared to go elsewhere; he was just grateful for them being there and left it at that.

In the early hours of every morning, Jared climbed wearily into the passenger seat and asked Peter to take him home. He never talked about what had happened and Peter never pushed the issue. After the first night, Jared stopped handing the money directly to Peter, which was something else that Peter was grateful for because it made him feel slightly less like a complete asshole. Not much less, but slightly. Instead, Jared left the money on the coffee table before disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

On the third night, Peter saw that there was more money sitting there than there had been on the previous two nights. He crept quietly over to the bathroom door, and pressed his ear against it because he didn't know what else to do without having to ask Jared about it directly. Although the shower was running full blast, it couldn't disguise the sound of Jared throwing up. More than anything else in the world right then, Peter wanted to be able to go in and comfort Jared; to stroke his back and fetch him a glass of water like they always did when one of them got sick, whether they were ill or if they'd just drunk too much. But the door that always used to be open was now locked and Peter was too much of a coward to knock on it...

During the day, everything seemed frighteningly normal; Jared worked on cases, met with clients, he even put in an appearance in court. In fact, as the days went by Jared actually seemed to be handling the whole thing better than Peter, who was finding it hard to concentrate on work because his brain was consumed by questions he didn't have the courage to ask. He wasn't sleeping all that well either, and when he did manage to drop off, he was haunted by dreams in which he was constantly trying to save Jared from some unseen horror and never quite managing it. It didn't take a world-class therapist to figure out what _that_ was all about.

Peter noticed that although Jared still wouldn't talk about what he was doing every night, he did start to talk about his new friends; how they looked out for him and would only let him go off with clients that they knew. _'Tried and tested'_ was how Jared put it. _'Clients'_ was one of his words too, like he was representing them, instead of... Okay, so Peter didn't want to think about the _'instead of'_ part. He also had his suspicions that there might be _'clients'_ that Jared had met with more than once, and that was something that Peter _really_ didn't want to think about. The reason why was also on his list of things he didn't want to think about. With all of this not thinking, it was a wonder that Peter was able to function at all...

For the eighth night in a row, Peter drove Jared to the same spot, just off Sunset. It was a slow night and Peter sat alone in the car, watching as Jared chatted and laughed with his friends. For a second or two, he felt a stab of jealousy at the fact that Jared was apparently having fun with people who weren't him. Then he remembered why Jared was actually standing out there and immediately felt guilty. For all the times he'd told _himself_ that he should be the one doing this, he'd never actually said it out loud. A tiny part of him was scared that eventually, Jared might agree.

For a while he just watched the three of them; it looked like there was some good-natured teasing going on. Then Jared obviously said something a little closer to the knuckle, no doubt managing to insult someone's physical looks, preference of sexual activity and their parentage, all in one sentence, and it was on! The blond made a grab for Jared but he moved too fast to be caught that easily. They circled around the other guy for a few seconds before Jared took off down the block, laughing as he looked over his shoulder to see the other two chasing after him. 

_You'll never catch him_ , Peter laughed to himself. No one as small as Jared who had a mouth as smart as his, made it through High School without learning to run pretty damn fast. The street was oddly quite for a minute or so, and then Jared was back; breathing hard and bent over with his hands on his knees, but still managing to look smug by the time his friends turned up a few seconds later. They were all laughing; one of them went to throw a pretend punch at Jared but pulled him into a hug instead. It looked like he was whispering something in Jared's ear and then there was more laughter as Jared shrugged him off, shyly. 

Peter's chose to ignore the knot in his stomach and the way that Jared glanced over towards him. Reassured that Jared had some good people looking out for him, Peter closed his eyes and listened to the muted sounds of their laughter...

**~~~~~~~~**

With a start, Peter's eyes flew open and he suddenly realised that he must have dropped off for a few minutes. He sat up bolt upright behind the wheel, his eyes searching for Jared in the distance. Fortunately, his friend was still standing there so Peter's heart rate dropped a notch or two and then climbed again when he saw that Jared was now on his own. Shit! How long had he been asleep? Peter rubbed his eyes and stretched out the kinks in his back, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him he'd only had one job to do and had almost screwed it up.

About ten minutes later, a car pulled up in front of Jared and Peter felt his mouth go dry. There was no one there to _'vet'_ this client, and judging by the way that Jared was looking around uncertainly, Peter wasn't convinced that Jared recognised him.

'Say no. Tell him you're busy. Tell him anything, just don't get in the car,' Peter was muttering to himself. But Jared was already closing the door behind him and the car pulled away. It took Peter less than three seconds to know that he couldn't just sit there impotently, waiting for Jared to come back again. He had to follow them.

At a discreet distance, Peter followed the car for almost twenty minutes, getting more and more worried with every mile that they travelled across the city. By mile twelve, he was fairly sure that this was not what he'd signed up for when he agreed to go to Law School. Just as the thought occurred to Peter that Jared might actually be being kidnapped and that he might actually have to call the police, the car turned off the main road. Although it was hard to tell in the dark, Peter guessed that they must be somewhere on the outskirts of the warehouse district; the buildings were large and industrial and the area was pretty much deserted. 

He killed the headlights as he pulled over. The last thing Peter wanted was for the guy to get spooked by someone following him. Or for Jared to think that Peter didn't trust him to take care of himself. Peter ducked down behind the wheel when he heard car doors opening, and watched cautiously through the passenger side window as two figures disappeared between the buildings. What the hell was this guy's deal anyway? Did he get off on corrugated iron and chain-link fences or something? Peter knew that he'd have to follow on foot. He closed the car door as quietly as he could and followed Jared, hugging the side of the building in an attempt at stealth. This _definitely_ wasn't what he'd signed up for when he agreed to go to Law School. Perhaps the irony was that in both cases, it had been all about following Jared. 

Peter turned the corner and saw that both figures had stopped against a wall. Quickly, he pulled back again, leaning against the side of the building. Peter was suddenly very aware of the harsh sound of his own breathing in the night air. He chanced another look around the corner but they both still seemed to be standing there. Peter was torn between wanting to be close enough to know whether Jared was in danger, and far enough away so he didn't actually have to hear what Jared was doing. 

He told himself again that it should have been him out there, just for good measure...

Peter stood with his back to the cold brick and waited. He tried to clear his mind, tried to think about anything other than what Jared might be doing but the images in his head were horribly confusing. Peter heard a muffled noise but it wasn't clear what was going on. He cursed the fact that there was very little difference between the sounds of pleasure and pain. Suddenly, a much louder cry cut through the night air and Peter decided that he really didn't care if he interrupted someone getting their rocks off - he knew that Jared was in trouble.

He flew around the corner of the building and immediately saw a guy who had to be at least nine inches taller than Jared; one hand was holding Jared by the neck up against the wall, the other was unbuttoning his own pants. Afterwards, Peter only remembered bits and pieces of what happened next...

He remembered grabbing hold of the guy and it taking all of his strength to drag him off Jared... He remembered watching Jared drop to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath, and realising that the fucker had already got Jared's pants undone... He remembered throwing the mother of all punches and knocking the asshole to the ground... He remembered kicking the guy hard, not even knowing or caring which parts of the body he was connecting with, just being happy that he was eliciting cries of pain... He remembered feeling Jared's hands on him, pulling him away, and realising that otherwise he might not have stopped...

'Come on Peter, let's go!' Jared cried, pulling at Peter's arm, his voice raw and scratchy.

They both ran as fast as they could towards the road, Jared following Peter to where he'd left the car. Breathless, they jumped in and slammed the doors, Peter turned the key in the ignition, gunned the engine and they pulled away with a squeal of tyres. Two minutes later, Peter had to pull over again because he was shaking too much to drive any further. He turned off the engine and they both sat there for a few seconds; the silence only punctured by the sound of their ragged breathing and Jared running his sleeve across his face.

Peter couldn't bring himself to look at Jared yet. Instead he said, 'Y'know, if we were better at being on this side of the law, maybe we'd have thought to take that guy's wallet or something, before we ran away like a couple of scared kids...'

He got a hollow laugh from Jared that turned into a harsh coughing fit. Shit! That guy must have really done a number on Jared's throat. Peter stroked Jared's back until the coughing subsided, then he turned and looked at him; Jared's eyes were red and ringed with smudged eyeliner, there was a scrape on his cheek from where he'd been forced up against the wall and he looked exhausted and terrified in equal measure. Peter felt himself hit rock bottom. He'd had one job to do - to protect his best friend - and he ended up almost letting him... He didn't even want to _think_ about what might have happened if he hadn't decided to follow them. Then he started thinking about all the times he _hadn't_ followed Jared.

'Jared...' Peter began, knowing he had to ask, even if Jared didn't want to talk about it. 'Did he... Did he force you...?' Jared shook his head. 'Did _anyone_ ever...?' Jared shook his head again. Peter didn't think he'd ever been more grateful for the fact that they didn't always have to use words to have a conversation.

Peter reached into the glove box and rifled through the contents until he found a tissue. He held it out to Jared who looked at it as though he had no idea what it was for. 'Come here...' Peter said gently, reaching out to clean up the graze on Jared's cheek. He flinched slightly at the contact, so Peter put his other hand on Jared's shoulder to reassure him. Within a few seconds, Jared had shuffled across the passenger seat and into Peter's arms. For the longest time, they just held each other without saying anything, until they could stop shaking and they were almost breathing normally again. But even when Jared said he was okay, Peter still didn't let go of him. Not that Jared protested his decision that much...

'So, I've been thinking about retiring?' Jared said eventually with a tight smile, his head still resting against Peter's shoulder.

'Really?' Peter replied, feigning surprise, 'I thought it was going rather well, myself.'

'I might also have come to the conclusion that _'Pretty Woman'_ did not exactly give us the clearest picture of prostitution in Los Angeles,' Jared added.

'What? You mean there was no rich, good-looking guy just waiting to give you the chance of a better life and maybe find love along the way?' Peter asked, starting to smile too.

'A good night for me was more along the lines of finding someone who came quickly and didn't want to argue about the price.' Jared's reply was slightly muffled as turned his face into Peter's shoulder.

Peter froze for a second. It was the closest that Jared had ever come to talking about what he'd had to do. Peter knew that if he pushed now, it would all come out, but as selfish as Peter knew it was, he just wasn't ready to hear it. One day, when they were both ready, he knew that they'd get blindingly drunk and Jared would tell him everything. Just not today...

Instead, Peter said lightly, 'Hey - if I rescued you from the guy who thought it was okay to hit a prostitute, doesn't that make _me_ Richard Gere?!'

Jared grinned. 'When you show up in a white limo, then we'll talk...'

'Yeah, we've watched that film way too many times!' Peter admitted. 'But it stops now, okay?'

'What, no more _'Pretty Woman'_?' Jared said, raising his head, 'But you love that film!'

Peter gave a small laugh. 'You know what I mean,' and he felt Jared nod.

'Not that I'm disagreeing with you,' Jared said, his voice hesitant, 'But what're we going to do for money?'

Peter pulled his arms a little tighter around Jared. 'Don't worry, I'll sort something out.'

This time, Jared didn't argue with him...

**~~~~~~~~**

Not that that was quite the end of it all. The next night, Jared insisted on going back down to that street just off Sunset one more time, but only to give his friends a description of the guy that they needed to watch out for. Peter got out of the car and went with him this time, but he hung back a little as Jared greeted them, still deeply ashamed of everything that Jared had gone through just to bail them both out.

They didn't seem surprised that Jared wasn't coming back, the blond remarking, 'I'd give it all up too if I had a boyfriend like that looking out for me,' with a nod towards Peter. Jared stammered an explanation that Peter was just his best friend and roommate, while Peter could feel every part of himself blushing furiously. And it wasn't as if these guys were the first people to mistake them for a couple either.

The following night, Peter came home with enough money to pay off all the rent that they owed, plus enough left over to give them a bit of a buffer until they could get some of their clients to pay up. He handed the bundle of cash to Jared, who stared at him incredulously.

'What the hell did you do to get all this?' he asked, like Peter might've just robbed a bank or something.

Peter shrugged. 'I sold my guitar.' Jared narrowed his eyes in suspicion and Peter held up his hands in surrender. 'Honest. I thought that it would just give us a start, y'know, but it turns out that it was a really rare model and worth quite a bit.' Peter wasn't sure whether his friend actually believed him or not - he'd always been terrible at lying to Jared - but he seemed to accept it eventually.

After that, it still took a while before things were back to what passed for normal. It was a while before the graze on Jared's cheek healed completely. It was a while before the set of finger-shaped bruises on his arms disappeared. It was a while before Jared stopped locking the bathroom door when he showered. And it was a while before they watched _'Pretty Woman'_ again...

**~~~~~~~~**

There are three numbers that Peter will always remember: 37 - the number of hours that Jared spent on the street... 2,145 - the amount of money that Peter finally borrowed to get them out of the hole... and 19 - the number of months it took him to pay Jared's mom back.

**~~~~END~~~~**


End file.
